


Someday, In This Morning Light

by CalamityK



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Love, M/M, Mornings, Otabek savoring Yuri in the morning, Sleepiness, Snapshots, True Love, Waking Up, idk how to tag this, kind of like a short look into Otabek's love, like legit pure fluff, set like maybe two years after the show idek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:58:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9402632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityK/pseuds/CalamityK
Summary: This life is filled with simple beauty, and Otabek relishes silent moments such as this one, where he can do no more than observe and collect memories.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Anon Prompt: i saw you take prompts and i wondered if you did like small snapshots?? If so i would gladly request something with otabek and yurio when they wake up together like in their house or something just something short that shows they're together :)
> 
> Not beta'd cause i just wrote it lol. in like fifteen minutes.

The sun billows in through the cracked window in small fractures, color-skewed by the pale blue curtains wisp-ing ever so gently in the morning air that sneaks through. It casts little azure glints off of the master bed’s multi-patterned blanket, that shrouds it’s still sleeping occupant in mismatched lumps. There’s a wrinkled space on the left side that Otabek previously occupied, abandoning it’s warm in favor of making this morning’s breakfast—pancakes with tiny flecks of cut chocolate— not his personal favorite, but someone else’s.

He pauses by the doorframe, balancing the heels of his feet lightly on the hardwood floor, determined to sneak back into the room as carefully as he had snuck out of it. He’s unwilling to wake Yuri before he absolutely has to; drinking in the sight of him, still mussed from the events of last night and soft in his slumber. This life is filled with simple beauty, and Otabek relishes silent moments such as this one, where he can do no more than observe and collect memories.

In the upcoming months, he’ll need them. When he no longer wakes every morning to Yuri’s soft blonde hair invading his pillow, or gentle breaths against the back of his neck, he’ll have this to think back on. Snapshots of Yuri’s pale limbs— peeking out at odd angles from underneath the ruffled blanket—his smooth skin looking otherworldly in the tinted light. Otabek eases himself down on the mattress with a careful stiffness, letting one hand come to hover above where Yuri’s golden head is resting uncovered, half on, half-off the pillow.

Yuri’s thin pink lips are slightly parted as he breathes through them, the snores caused by his mouth-breathing are soft notes; more endearing to Otabek than the hum of violin strings that he often skates to. He thinks tenderly, that if he were to skate to all of Yuri’s sounds instead, the world could not bear the art it would create. He lets his fingers drop delicately, plotting routines that pulse with love in his head, as he caresses Yuri’s cheek.

After a few moments, Yuri stirs under his touch, sniffling lightly and blinking once before squeezing his green eyes back shut against the light of day. The smallest of whines replaces his snoring as Otabek’s moves to twist a strand of Yuri’s hair in his fingers.

“Can I have a few more minutes, Beka?” Yuri’s voice is slow, raspy and thick with tiredness. Otabek adds it to his mental soundtrack.

“I made breakfast.” Otabek wants nothing more than to grant Yuri his wish— let the other drift quickly back to sleep, maybe tangle their legs together and join him—but they have a day planned, and the syrup Otabek warmed is probably already cooling.

Yuri doesn’t express anymore complaints, just gently turns his face to nuzzle affectionately against the inside of Otabek’s wrist. Otabek removes his hand reluctantly, standing again as Yuri stretches the aches from his body; more and more skin leaving the confines of the blanket as he extends. Otabek tracks it inch by inch as it appears— storing it behind his eyelids, to grasp at later the way a person in a desert claws toward a mirage—unashamed when he meets Yuri’s eyes.  

Three more days before Yuri is pulled from his grasp by the call of competitions. Three more days to focus on the way Yuri looks and smells and tastes; sounds and responds when overtaken by fractured bliss. Then Otabek returns to the ice as well, to focus on step sequences, spins, and choreographies that will never be beautiful, not the way he feels when he moves in time with Yuri.

Otabek prays, against Yuri’s solid green gaze, to someday—years from now—have no interruptions. _Until then, he’ll just savor this._

**Author's Note:**

> Shew. That was short but longer than intended.  
> If you want to toss any prompts at me feel free to do so at [kingplitsetsky](http://kingplitsetsky.tumblr.com/)


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